A Good Hand of Cards
by Sandylee007
Summary: A tiny break room with a very uncomfortable bed doesn't sound exactly like the most romantic environment. But with a rough case ending Morgan and Reid don't really mind.         MILD   MorganxReid –slash.        ONESHOT


A/N: (chuckles) You know, when the idea of this story first floated in I had no idea if I'd ever actually decide to send it forward. But apparently this little one had a will of its own – and here it is now. (grins sheepishly)

WARNINGS: Quite mild slash – doesn't go further from chaste lil' kisses. Shortness. Aaand… (blinks) You know, for once I think that was it. Cool!

DISCLAIMER: There's this unbelievable group of people that's responsible for the actual 'CM'-series. Sadly, my name isn't amongst them. (pouts) I'm just a hopelessly addicted fan who, apparently, has too much time. (rolls eyes at oneself)

Awkay, because I'm an inch from deciding against sending this (which is something that happens often when I'm plannin on sending a story), I better get to the actual process of posting. (swallows thickly and nervously) I REALLY, really hope you'll enjoy the ride!

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**_A Good Hand of Cards_**

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The tiny break room in the back of a small-town's police station was gray, quiet and filled with shadows as two figures sprawled on a narrow, painfully squeaky bed. Dr. Spencer Reid was sleeping lightly while Derek Morgan had one arm wrapped around him, wide open darkened eyes fixed on the filthy ceiling above.

Since the case was already closed Strauss had firmly announced that she wasn't about to pay for 'a prolonged vacation', and this was the couple's only possible place to stay. The two of them didn't really mind as long as they didn't have to sleep outside. The rest of the team had been reluctant to leave before a doctor had the chance to come and make sure it was okay for Reid to travel. They'd only headed home after Morgan had promised them he'd keep an eye on the young genius and let them know if something happened. It was also possible that the team had sensed the two of them needed some time together. Either way, Morgan was almost sinfully relieved they had this opportunity to spend time with just the two of them. It was easier to think this way. Though 'thinking' wasn't necessarily a good thing. Because Morgan's mind wrapped stubbornly around the events of the past ten hours.

The case had been almost over as their team – aided by the local police – had barged into a quite creepy old house to make an arrest. And once again Reid had been the one who found their UnSub, a quite average looking middle-aged man named Dave Ollen. The young genius had approached the serial killer without pulling out his weapon although Ollen had been holding a rifle. In the end the brunet almost succeeded in talking the man into surrendering. But then a detective from the local police had decided to make a mess of things. The man had approached Ollen with his gun held high and screaming, clearly not trusting Reid's abilities. And of course Ollen panicked. Morgan had made it to the scene just in time to see Ollen punch Reid so hard the brunet was hurled against the wall before falling to the floor unconscious. Morgan also saw the officer make a shot that missed Reid's collapsing form with mere inches, the bullet slamming into Ollen's chest instead.

If he'd been a little less focused on Reid, if Hotch had been any less convincing with telling him not to do it and if the officer been even slightly slower when leaving the house, Morgan would've deffinitely beaten up the moron for risking the life of a federal agent. As it was he settled for a punch. No matter how hard he tried to stop it, Morgan couldn't help thinking that without the idiotic officer… Or if the man's bullet had missed its target with even an inch…

Mercifully that thought was cut when all of a sudden when Reid shifted and sighed a little before the brunet's eyes fluttered halfway open. The other man's eyes stared at his side almost unfocusedly for a moment before brightening after a slow blink.

Morgan couldn't help but grin a little. He'd always found Reid adorable when the younger man was waking up – though he'd never tell the man that, of course. "Hey", he greeted softly, almost sure Reid had one hell of a headache. "I know I'm supposed to keep you awake, just in case. But you really looked like you needed some rest."

Reid gave him a look that held irritation and amusement, eyes finally opening fully. "I don't have a concussion or anything. So stop looking at me like that. I'm fine."

Derek fought between the urges of rolling his eyes and smiling at that. Instead of offering words he ran two gentle fingers over the huge, clearly sore bruise on Reid's cheek – as though the touch would've made any difference. He felt Reid tense up in pain as soon as he brushed the brunet's injured skin. _The hell you're fine_, he chided inwardly. He withdrew his fingers when Reid released a tiny hiss of pain. "Sorry", he murmured immediately, planting a tiny kiss to the young genius' forehead. He felt marginally better when the other man leaned closer. "I could go and get a ice pack for your face. It'd help with the pain and swelling."

Reid shook his head, breathing in deep. "Let's just… stay, like this." The young genius had two kinds of nights. Those endlessly long and terrifying ones during which he didn't want to be touched, when it felt like the man slipped into some dark place where Morgan couldn't follow, and those during which the brunet wanted – perhaps even needed – to be held like this. Over the year they'd been together and after some disastrous misjudgements Morgan had grown fairly skilled when it came to telling them apart.

Morgan nodded, then pulled Reid even closer and placed his chin on top of the younger man's head. Feeling the brunet's heart beating and those steady, even breaths calmed him down, at least a little bit. Almost enough to chase away the guilt.

Reid spoke so suddenly that it nearly startled him. "Morgan." The man's voice was firm, very unlike the usual one. "You've gotta stop doing this. You can't be like this every time I get some cuts and bruises on a case." There was a somewhat unreadable look in the brunet's eyes when they peered up at him. "You can't protect me from everything."

Morgan's breath shuddered as he swallowed. "I know." This was something they'd talked about more times than he could count. But it made him feel a lot better – a lot less helpless – thinking he could. For the thought that one day he might actually lose the one person he'd let the closest… Morgan just didn't know how to process it, although he'd known the risks when getting into a relationship with another agent.

Sometimes the two of them half-joked about how easily trouble seemed to find Reid. In days like this those jokes felt much too real.

"Derek." Reid sounded amused, but also mildly worried. Once again the man's eyes were half-open and slightly hazy. Morgan had a feeling the genius was suffering from a splitting headache, but of course Reid wouldn't accept medication. "I'm just about to fall asleep, and I've got a feeling you're not doing much better. So let's get some sleep, okay?" The brunet clearly stiffled a yawn, mostly subconsciously burying his head into the crook of his neck. The man's lips moved with inaudible words before they placed a light little kiss to his neck.

Morgan opened his mouth to say something, the contents of which he had no idea. But then he felt Reid's hand slipping into his, giving a firm squeeze. Reid's hand was warm, soft and reassuringly strong. And Morgan managed to smile.

Somehow, just for that night, Reid was the stronger one of them. And slowly Morgan managed to coax himself into falling asleep, finally trusting that Reid would still be there when he woke up.

Life and fate are fickle things – the two of them knew it better than well. And especially loving is a dangerous game. But as he woke up the following morning to find Reid sleeping soundly beside him, Morgan came to a conclusion that for now life had dealt him a pretty damn good hand of cards.

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"_Life is like a game of cards. The hand you are dealt is determinism; the way you play it is free will._"

Jawaharlal Nehru

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**_End._**

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A/N: Heh. You could say that was something different in my 'CM'-department. (grins sheepishly) BUT, what's the verdict – good, decent, trash-material? **PLEASE**, do leave a note to let me hear out your thoughts! Writing is my drug, and chatting with you guys would be a very, VERY nice bonus. (gives puppy's eyes)

Thank you so much for reading this! And who knows, maybe I'll see you around again one of these days!

Take care!


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